Little Miss Babysitter

-- 27 --

I awoke with a snort and a huff. My mind was strangely at peace, and I wondered if that had any relation to what had transpired the day before. 

What had happened yesterday? It was as if a blank slate was smocked over, my memories a porous combination of images and mounted voices, all flashing colors and words I'd never heard before. Beaming rainbows fluttered inside my eyes, faces making a reappearance for a painful amount of time, before leaving as quickly as they had come. 

I was in shambles. My mind was crowded, my room was too empty and alone, and I felt a mixture of nausea and uneasiness that had my stomach threatening to spill. I had the chorus to a song I didn't remember scribbled on the back of my brain, and it proved to tediously bug me, as I went to scrub my gums raw. 

The light that fled in from the window was pink, casting a romantic sheen to the bathtub's curtains. They were white, with a different breed of dog every other inch. I never knew dogs had the capability to smile, but apparently, my shower curtains didn't rightly care as they were defying even the simplest of pooch-bred laws. 

The mirror was smudged with sweat and pasty colors of skin, of which I was hoping was make-up. However, inside the mirror, the image was more frightful than the exterior. 

A girl, around my age I believed, appeared tattered and worn, perhaps after a long night of crying until her eyes bled apple tinted tears. She could have been a car's flag, whipping wildly around in the wind for hours on end. Her face was no longer distinguishable, as it had previously been. The scars around her forehead where she had fallen on the sidewalk as a child were deeper and more indigo than I remembered, and the curves of her jaw were more angled and triangular. Her shoulders lacked the natural rounded shape they had normally posessed, her ribs shone through her slinky S sized form fitting shirt. 

I turned away, a prickle of a tear needling my eye. I believed that the sight didn't hurt me as much as it should have, for I was in a common state of denial. I had let myself go, the months prior. 

My feet padded of their own accord down the wooden hallway and to the staircase. The carpet was a salmony color, stained with age and spilled milk. I made it my business to avoid the splotches at all costs. Just one of those things that kept life interesting.

"Hey, hon." A pale faced mother stood by the stove, skillet in hand. "You up for a traditional Sunday's feast?" She tipped her artichoke tinted mug, displaying a murky yellow slime. "We have egg nog."

Considering I don't exactly value the reject of eggs as a beverage, my mother has known better than anyone that I despise egg nog with a burning passion. And it's this crack of a sick joke that has my spirits shrinking even more so than before.

"No thanks." I avoided her peachy grin, and take a seat by the opened window. A gust of frosty air swept by, fanning my face to goosebumps.

"Well, someone forgot to take her tampon out last night." Mom rolled her eyes, giggling to herself as she expertly flipped the omelet she was concocting. She paused a moment, as if to assess her last comment. "Only kidding." 

"Hilaaaarious." I groaned, shifting my cheek onto my sweaty palm. My ears burned and my eyes ached. My lungs were too small, and the kitchen was too steamy. I was just, overall uncomfortable, and yet I had no idea why. Maybe it was the lack of security, hence being fired from your one and only job does that to you.

"No need to remind me of what I already know." She set my sarcasm aside, as well as a slightly burnt omelet with green and red peppers. "Eat up. Jason will be here in an hour."

"What? Why?" I mewled, picking at my food. "I don't want to see anyone today. It's Sunday. Are you really that cruel?"

"Yes, honey. You know that already." She perched herself on the seat vertical to mine, her hands red and veiny. "I don't know how to fix that stupid frown on your face, and it seems he's the only one that can."